What can you call the Prowler? It's not just an automobile. No, this roadster is an unabashed tribute to form over function--an exuberant celebration of the car as art form--much like the vintage street rods and custom cars of the past that it seeks to imitate. Style and spirit it has in abundance, but the driver has to dispense with a few commonplace amenities--most notably luggage space, which is virtually nonexistent. At first, it looks like little more than the thinnest briefcase will squeeze below the lid of what would otherwise be a trunk. By planning carefully, two or three small, soft bags can pancake into that cargo space, enveloped between the rear bulkhead and the decklid. Dealers actually offered a small, matching trailer to augment the minimal storage space. As might be expected of a professionally engineered car, Prowler accelerates more smoothly, rides softer, and takes corners with more control--devoid of body lean--than any home-built hot rod. Altogether, the feeling from behind the wheel is still unique among production automobiles. Prowler might look like a dragster hot rod, but its handling is quite sports carlike. It's nearly flat in turns, with unexpected balance and grip, and firm, no-surprises steering. Though the V6 does not pin you to your seat, it offers plenty of power and the exhaust note is a hearty rumbling roar. Tire and wind noise are prominent at highway speeds, but only seem to add to the excitement. Gas mileage has varied. We averaged 17.2 mpg with an early Prowler, in a mix of city, suburban, and highway driving. A '99 model got a more reasonable 22.1 mpg. Brakes are strong and easily modulated, and the 4-wheel independent suspension steps deftly over small bumps. Bigger bumps pitch occupants around in their seats--and produce body rattles, too. Getting inside is a chore, and exiting is no easier. Doors are long, but do not open particularly wide. You sit close to the floor, in supportive buckets, with the pointed prow visible through the narrow windshield. But front fenders are invisible as they turn with the wheels and bob with the suspension. Slitlike side windows and the low, "chopped" baby-bonnet convertible top kill any useful views with the top up. You have to be outside the car to fold the fabric roof, but it hides neatly beneath the hard rear deck, which is tall enough to quell much of the wind buffeting that affects other convertibles. The retro instrumentation straps a small tachometer to the steering column and strings other gauges across the center of the dashboard. Reading those requires a conscious look away from the road. Controls are standard Chrysler fare, and easy to use. Interior storage consists of a console box, a small glovebox, a single cupholder, and a map pocket behind the driver's seat. Prowlers we've tested exhibited cowl shake, but no more than, say, a Mustang convertible. Fit and finish have been very good, inside and out. Cabin materials are high grade, and the paint has looked exceptionally deep and glossy.

Value for the Money
Simply put, Prowler is a sunny-day lifestyle statement, not a mere means of transportation. Once well-heeled buyers paying over list were sated, prices stabilized closer to sticker. Lack of cargo room excepted, Prowler is as practical as most any 2-seat roadster in its price class--which is to say, not very. Still, few cars generate more smiles per mile, and you don't even have to drive it to enjoy it.